Of Course
by alyce.swan
Summary: You should've known from the start. Of course. THREESHOT! Contains adult themes, M to be safe.
1. Mitchie's Story

You didn't notice him, not at first. Not until you noticed him noticing you.

Your best friend went out with his best friend, which left him stuck with you by default. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled and teased you, and on one summer day, he tossed you in the lake. That's when you started falling for him. Although you weren't sure what to do about it. Mostly, you just blushed and smiled.

But **{of course}**, you weren't his type.

You knew this because he spent most of your time together talking about girls, the ones that _were _his type. He preferred blondes to black haired, black haired to redheads, and redheads to brunettes. He said his shade of hair wouldn't look good with a brunette. And just to your luck, you were one. You knew exactly who he wanted and to what extent and why, because he went through his top ten everyday when he was with you.

He wanted the ones that were pretty and big-breasted, the ones that wore shimmery eye shadow and sparkling lip gloss. Tall, beautiful girls that wore short skirts, girls that giggled at everything, girls that used their most adorable puppy dog expression if denied what they wanted, which was rarely. If ever.

And you were never on that top ten list.

But that didn't matter. (Well, not so much.) You were the one he called when he couldn't fall asleep. You were the one he asked when he was stuck on homework. You were the one he went on sporty events with.

You were willing to be patient, to change. You started to paint your nails, to apply lip gloss almost every single minute of the day. You started to wear more expensive brands, Hollister instead of Macy's.

**{Of course}**, your friends didn't get it, they didn't get _him_, but you did, and that made **everything** worth it. Things like waking up two hours early to take a shower and apply mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow and other products. Things like counting your calories or blowing your money on expensive perfume. Things like reading _Seventeen, Teen Vogue_ and _CosmoGirl _every single time a new edition came out.

You watched his movies with him, and agreed with him that yes, he was braver than James Bond, and yes, he was better than Indiana Jones. You giggled at his bad, not-even-funny jokes, and "cared" whether the Red Sox beat the Yankees or not. You didn't care that his emails were pointless and un-important, because the important thing was that he kept on sending them.

You told yourself not to expect anything to happen. But whatever the case, you could still hope.

One night, he called. He chattered on and on about the upcoming dance. You wished that he would ask you. You wished, you wished during the whole conversation. But then he hung up, and the next day, he asked someone else. That someone else said yes. And a little part of you died.

That night, at the dance, he danced with girls while you watched from the sidelines. He flirted, while you gazed with envy. He approached you, grinning. Your heart rate sped up, he was going to ask you to dance with him! Should you play it cool, should you eagerly say yes and giggle? But he doesn't ask you to dance. Instead he asks you which pick up line is the best. You ask which girl he wants. He points towards a beautiful girl drinking juice in the corner.

**{Of course.}** You should have known. That girl was always number one on his list. Always. Perfect shiny blonde hair, perfect sparkling blue eyes, perfect glossy lips, perfect cute little giggles, perfect soothing voice, perfect fashionable clothes, perfect long tan legs. Her parents should have named her Perfect.

He walks over to her and they start to dance. He kisses her and she kisses back. And then you die inside. Your heart shatters. 

**{Of course.}**

And then it's their wedding. You didn't want to come, but you were invited. You stand in the back corner. You should feel happy. Happy for him, your best friend. Happy for her, his true love. But you don't. You want to die.

She floats down the aisle, in her white dress. They exchange vows, and they kiss. Husband and wife. And you feel like you're being dragged across a bed of razors.

Shane Grey and Tess Tyler, married and happily ever after.

_You should've known from the start._

And so that night, you pull the trigger.

**{Of Course.}**


	2. Shane's Story

**~For you, **peaceandsmile**. This will be a three shot. If anyone who's reading this hasn't figured it out, the regular font is Mitchie's letter, and the slant is Shane's thinking in the part that he's reading the letter. Enjoy?~**

Shane grinned, his morning CD signing session finished after five hours. Breathing in the fresh air in his house, he felt relief. And then he frowned. He hadn't used his guitar in at least a week. He hadn't used it after he and Tess got married.

Walking over to pick up his guitar, his mind wondered. He was looking forward to a kisses and some fun when Tess got home.

Picking up the guitar case, he spotted a note taped on to it. Curious, he detached the note from the case and unfolded it.

And started to read.  


* * *

  
Dear Shane,

It's Mitchie.

_Mitchie?_

If you're reading this, I'm not on Earth anymore. I killed myself with my father's gun.

_Why did you do that Mitchie?_

You must be wondering why. Oh silly Shane. You know why. I loved you. Too much.

_You loved me?_

Why do you think I sat with you all day listening to you talk about other girls?

Why do you think I started to wear makeup and paint my nails?

Why do you think I pretended to care about everything you loved?

You loved everything except for me.

_That's not true, Mitchie._

You could've stopped me, you know. You could've been there.

_I'm so sorry._

Sorry is not good enough, Shane.

_I loved you, Mitchie. Why did you run away? From me, from us?_

And you probably think I ran away from us. But I didn't. Youran away from us.

I hope you and Tess have your Happily Ever After.

_Me and Tess.... No._

Lots of love from up above,

Mitchie Torres  


* * *

Shane sighed and looked up at the blank white ceiling, tears running down his handsome, detailed face.

Mitchie. His happy ending... with Mitchie. Not with Tess.

**Mitchie.**

**M i t c h i e.**

So Shane smiled. He grabbed a pen lying on the table, and ripped a piece of paper from his agenda book. He started scribbling down words.

_Finished._

Then he strode into his and Tess's bathroom. He opened up the mirror and found exactly what he was looking for. And tipped the vial of pills into his throat.

_I'm coming for our happy ending, Mitchie._

* * *


	3. Tess's Story

An alternate ending for those who would NOT like to see everyone die. Or maybe just Tess.

----

Tess drove home peacefully, listening to the radio. She sang along when one of her older #1 hits, Too Cool, came on. Parking in the 6 car driveway, she stepped out of her car and fished around her purse for the house keys. Stiletto heels clicking on the cobblestone, she walked up to the door and unlocked it. Everything was normal. Until she opened the door.

Tess first froze in her tracks. Then choked on her breath. Then screamed. For so long and so loud.

"No!" She gasped, running towards the heap on the floor. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill over.

"Shane! Shane! No! No! No! No!" She knelt on the ground, and bent over the still body. He was pale and cold. Her trembling fingers moved swiftly as she ran her hands over his body, and checked his heart for a pulse. Negative. Salty teardrops started to stain Shane's white shirt.

Tess frantically flipped open her cellphone, and speed dialed the nearest, safest, hospital for famous people.

"State your emergency and name." The person on the other side sounded bright and cheery.

"Tess Tyler. I think my husband is dead. SEND AN AMBULANCE, NOW!" Tess demanded, sobbing, near on the verge of breaking down.

She ended the call, tossed her cellphone away, hearing a shattering crash, and not caring if it broke. She cradled Shane's head in her arms while crying. Tess kissed his cold cheeks and waited. _No. This could not be._

Then, she heard the wailing of sirens, and red and white lights flashed on her driveway. Paramedics and doctors rushed into the young couple's house. They shoved a wailing and sobbing Tess aside, as they used their complicated equipment to do something that Tess knew would have no effect whatsoever.

They loaded his body onto a stretcher as Tess stood frozen, endless tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto the floor. This was _not_ supposed to happen. This was _not_ in her game plan for her happily ever after. A man dressed in a simple black suit strode over, writing on a notepad. He started to question her, what happened, when, where, why, how, endless questions that were irrelevant. All that mattered was Shane.

More important-looking men marched up to the young starlet. "Mrs. Tyler," one man began, "We have collected physical evidence of the cause of this death. We can run a scan, but we are quite certain that this death was a suicide."

Suicide. Suicide, suicide, suicide. The word echoed in Tess' mind, repeating time after time. Why would he do that? To him? To her? To _them?_

There are many questions in the world. Most of them have answers.

"It seems that Shane has left a note for you to read, possibly explaining why he has done what he has done. We have already gone over it, and if that is not enough, there was an almost empty vial of aspirins next to it. We are sorry for your great loss." The man said in monotone.

A man carrying a briefcase handed her a piece of ocean blue paper with grey margins. It was Shane's signature paper. It was folded neatly in half, with the words, "To: My dear Tess Tyler" scribbled on it. It was Shane's handwriting.

Tess opened it slowly, squeezing her eyes shut, afraid of what would be etched onto the paper.

"Dear my lovely Tess," it began, "I'm gone. I won't come back. My time with you was precious indeed, because a rare jewel like you is priceless." Tess smiled slightly. Shane was always the cheesy one. "However, I am certain that I am in a better place now. I regret to tell you that my love was not wholly and purely for you, but for someone else, who is here with me." Tears started to blur Tess' vision again. "So now, it is time to say goodbye. Farewell, Tess. I always will love you, but maybe not to the whole extent. I hope I can fly in heaven, Shane"

----

Tess was losing her mind slowly, although she wouldn't show it infront of the policeman, detectives, etc. that came in for hours of questioning.

She frowned sadly as she was being driven home by a rather large policeman with a bushy gray mustache. No one wanted her. Not her father, not her mother, not Caitlyn, not Shane. They all found someone better to move on to. Her father left when she was four, to marry a gay Parisian man. Her mother had always hated her for stealing her spotlight. Caitlyn moved on to Mitchie as her best friend. And Shane moved on to Mitchie as well. It felt like the glue that was holding the remaining fragments of her heart together was slowly creaking apart.

But then again, there were hints. There were signs, obvious ones, but she had chose to ignore them. Like when her father came home late, reeking of alcohol and male deodorant. Like when her mother purposely started a rumor about her daughter, once Tess had landed her first big role instead of Tyler. Like when Caitlyn started to not return her calls and was late or absent from their special "Tessy+Caity Movie Nights". Like when she caught Shane naked in bed with a brown-haired girl, whom she didn't recognize until now.

Now she was all alone.

'Well,' she thought, 'maybe not entirely alone.'

She reached for her phone, grasping around in her purse. Realizing it had shattered to pieces when she had thrown it into the next room, she picked up the homephone near by.

She dialed in some numbers, and held the heavy phone to her ear, waiting. The ringing went through three times before someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hi, it's-- it's Tess." Her voice was meek and scared.

His voice sounded shocked and bitter at the same time. "Why are you calling me?"

"Um, uh, Shane-- Shane-- Shane, he uh, he--" Tess took a deep shaky breath. "He, uh, he uh d-died." She hated how her voice broke on "died".

"And what do want me to do about that?"

"Could I, uh, could I-- could I uh come over, or whatever?"

He sighed in defeat. "Fine. I trust you remember where it is?"

She sighed in relief. "Yes, I do. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." And they hung up.

---

Tess's silver Mercedes pulled up in his drive way and he graciously opened the front door for her.

She looked at him gratefully through bloodshot eyes. "Always the gentleman, aren't you."

He nodded, not speaking. There was an awkward silence.

"So uh, I'll get your coat."

"It's okay, I think I'll keep it on."

More silence. And then Tess thrust herself at him, blonde hair whipping around violently.

Tongue met tongue as she pressed her mouth to his, kissing him ferociously. He kissed back, while groping at her fit body. She pushed her body into his as they moved into the kitchen, clothes being torn off. They broke off, panting.

"I need you in me," Tess whispered, pulling off hers and his underwear. She sat on the table, looking at him lustfully as did he.

He entered her, while she moaned, not even thinking about what was happening. He knew what was happening, though, and knew it was wrong to take advantage of her, but he did anyways.

He pumped faster, and she screamed in delight.

"Stop pretending."

"What?" She panted.

"Right now you're pretending to do Shane and not me. Right now you're imagining it's _him _who is touching you. And," he said coldly, "It's his name you will be screaming when you reach you climax, right?"

Her hesitation was enough to answer his question. "Oh but--" she tried to object.

"Whatever," he dismissed.

And sure enough, she did scream Shane's name over and over and over again, as she trembled from ecstasy and he moaned.

He laid down gently next to her, hazel eyes sad and hurt. "Why can't you love me? I'd give you everything."

She looked back at him, blue eyes guilty. "I'm sorry, Jason." She paused, thinking. "I always want what I can't have."

Of course.


End file.
